


Jonesy's Short And Decent Ineffible Drabbles

by ArtlessComedic



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drabble Collection, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 05:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19739266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtlessComedic/pseuds/ArtlessComedic
Summary: i like writing for GO, but i doubt im gonna do anything longer or serious, so here we go yeehaw





	Jonesy's Short And Decent Ineffible Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> concept: angels with halos that change color like mood rings

It’s a halo of light, not a physical halo. If it were made of something that can be touched or felt, angels ran the risk of wearing them off-center, dropping them, or, God forbid, _losing_ them. 

As such, the gentle glow of an angel’s halo appeared only to angels, demons, and of course, witches, because witches can see things as they truly are, and even an angel would have a hard time hiding something from a witch, as they are very clever at figuring things out. 

Crowley was not a witch, not as far as he knew anyway, but still he found himself learning about Aziraphale more and more. Specifically about Aziraphale’s halo (as he already knew everything else there was to know about him). It was usually a light pink, a glowing disc of fantastic light behind his head, making his white hair appear to change color when his mood, and therefore the color of his halo, shifted. 

Crowley had seen him with a blue halo numerous times, too many to count. It was fairly obvious to Crowley that this must have been the color of fear. Sometimes it shifted briefly around a slightly lighter blue, a darker blue, and his usual pink, never quite settling on one or another. Crowley was never sure what he did or said that put fear into Aziraphale, but he didn’t like it anyway. (He especially didn’t like that the color of fear never appeared when Crowley wanted it to.) 

Occasionally it had a golden glow, and Crowley didn’t have to wonder why it was rare to see the joyous yellow in Aziraphale when he was around him. He was, after all, a demon. Well…it did irk him slightly when he didn’t see it even though Aziraphale was smiling at him, or cracking a joke. Was he not genuine? Did Crowley not make him happy? 

Not that it mattered. Because it didn’t. 

Only perhaps thrice had he seen it turn an orange-red. This had to represent anger, as Aziraphale was usually brandishing a thick book to accompany it’s eerily Hellish glow, swinging it furiously at Crowley when he did something especially demon-ish, like disrespecting Aziraphale’s taste in music, or missing a dinner reservation. 

“What I really don’t understand,” Crowley went on, swirling what was left of the white wine in his glass until it refilled for him, “is why…why is pink the default? It’s not very Heavenly, I’d say. Humanity has assigned it representative of sweetness and- and _compassion._ Angels aren’t exactly compassionate, are they, now.” 

The demon he was talking to, or rather, talking at, whilst they finished picking at their dirty nails, simply rolled their eyes. “Pink isn’t the default, you helpless idiot. It’s white. That’s the entire damn point.” 

Crowley sat up straight, setting down his momentarily empty glass to look at his company very closely through his dark sunnies. “It’s not pink?” 

“No.” 

“Well then what's it mean?” 

“It means you’re bloody stupid.” 

“Yes well, besides that, then.” 

“Why don’t you ask your angel?” They look up finally. “I’m sure he’d know very well what pink means.” 

“He prefers for me to figure things out on my own, I think.” Crowley hums (or perhaps hisses), quietly. “He likes that about me, my wit. Why wouldn’t he.” 

They sigh. 

“What are you making that face for? Hey, come back! I’m not just going to ask him!” 

… 

The next time Crowley sees Aziraphale, he doesn’t ask. But he does happen by a mirror while walking through the bookstore, talking about nothing. And he can’t help but notice how similar the pink of his cheeks is to that of Aziraphale’s halo. 


End file.
